


to the lives we've lived

by sapphskies



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Adventure Time References, Alternate Timelines, Bittersweet Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Soulmates, felix is prince gumball in one timeline !, inspired by queen's gambit for one of the timelines as well hh, so ofc chan is his marshall lee :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphskies/pseuds/sapphskies
Summary: ✪ – chan and felix traverse through timelines in hopes that their souls will bind for eternity.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Kudos: 4





	to the lives we've lived

**Author's Note:**

> hihi !! so a few things: the narratives here are inconsistent and non-linear, but it should all make sense and tie up well by the very end of it !!  
> also also i'd like to say that if any actual chess players read this i'm sorry if there are any descrepancies in the chess scenes, feel free to correct me on that :]  
> enjoy and happy reading !

**TIMELINE 1 – somewhere within the expanse of the adventure time universe**

Foreboding mishaps aside, life as vampire king was more solemn and lonely than it was rewarding. Sure, he found amusement in indulging the princes that inhabit the Land of Ooo with his various wisecracks, as well as nonchalantly surpassing the ice queen any chance he got, as well as manipulating Prince Gumball’s every attempt at drawing Changbin the human’s attention – it wasn’t inherently Chan’s fault that he didn’t happen to have a midnight steed that could be drawn to the boy’s shape shifting companion.

All in all, mischief was the easiest form of indulgency in Chan’s life, and engaging in banter with a very annoying Prince Gumball quickly became one of his favourite pass times. Like most times, however, these minute occurrences are not as welcomed by the seemingly arrogant prince himself.

The past was better left for the past, surely, but its general impudence still formed rifts and borders that prohibited the two from truly gaining real closure. So, had they patched things up? Not quite. Were they working on it? Presumably.

Or, at least, Chan liked to see it that way. He’d spent months pestering Felix for keeping and consistently wearing the oversized, black T-shirt that had prevailed and barely tethered through the years. Plus, they’d hung out on their own terms numerous times, all in Chan’s measly attempt of ‘putting the past behind him’ like everyone seemed to be encouraging from him.

Which was why it did slightly irk him, that after staying out of contact for the past few months – assumedly because of the Prince’s busy schedule, what with ruling a kingdom and all – he had to find out that this was no longer the case after, tactlessly, catching the King of Ooo in _his_ bedsheets, with _his_ pink hair and _his_ nightclothes, no less. 

And sure, the prospect of Felix spending his days in a small, warm cabin, tending to his own plants, living in solitude, did warm Chan’s cold-blooded chest the slightest bit, but not enough to water down his frustrations.

It’s the fury-driven chant that repeats in his head while he flies his merry way over to the cabin the King had pointed him to, that lands him right at the front, where Felix is sat out on his porch in a wooden rocking chair, the depth of his dark circles challenging that of the ones Chan is almost always equipped with.

‘Oh. Hey, Chan.’ Said boy mutters, fragments of sleep laced within his surly voice, a lazy smile stretching over his features, as if he’d been too tired to jump to his defence as he usually would.

‘Don’t _oh, hey_ me!’ Chan stomps one of his red converse over the humid grass, eyeing the shotgun on the boy’s jean-clad lap – _jeez, Lix, I’d expect you to wear something comfortable in the dead of night, at least._

‘Why haven’t I heard anything about this exile?’ Chan presses, watching as Felix shoos peppermint butler away, reassuring him that they can be left alone ‘I mean, we’re friends, right? Or am I misreading something?’

‘Woah, that’s a lot of questions,’ Felix yawns now, his blinks growing heavier and slower ‘well, for one, it was my decision, ultimately, because…you know, life here is grand. So many possibilities. I get to relax and,’ another yawn ‘start on building a new kingdom. A kingdom of vegetables.’

Chan can’t help but chuckle, his legs floating up to land right by the retired Prince’s chair, the moonlight and the stars shine with an immaculate precedence that reflects onto both of their bright faces. Even in his great tire, it’s evident that Felix’s smile, as always, is as genuine as they come.

It was a devastating realisation, to learn that Felix was beautiful, still, in every possible sense of the word. Beautiful in his actions, beautiful in his words, beautiful under the glow of the stars he loved to envision the stories behind.

Felix always had an affinity for stars. It was a fact that stuck with Chan throughout the years, even after their massive fallout. At first, it was horribly frustrating. To feel himself drawn to the sky during his sit-outs on rooftops. To instinctively reminisce over a boy, he’d lost long ago to the triumphs of ruling and the greediness of power.

‘It’s not funny, I’m serious!’ Despite his phrasing, Felix laughs as well, his simmering snickers sluggish, yet momentous.

‘I don’t know, I’d say it would make a lot more sense if a candy elemental was to look after a kingdom of candy people, don’t you?’

At that, Felix’s smile falls, shortly before he’s back to consciously wearing a small grin. He assumes Chan wouldn’t have caught it. Chan does.

‘I’ll be the first of my kind to build a lovely kingdom of,’ Another yawn ‘pumpkins. If the varmints stop harming them.’

At that, Chan’s interest is irrevocably piqued ‘Varmints?’

‘Yep, that’s why I’m awake and ready,’ Felix gestures to the shotgun in his hand, barely registering when Chan slowly lowers the positioning of its barrel, seeing as there doesn’t seem to be any threat lingering within their finely attuned space at that very moment ‘I’m sure I’ll get them, I’ll…I’ll,’ Yet again, the boy heaves out another yawn, his face stretching so far down Chan is afraid he’ll melt into a pile of pink.

‘I think you should sleep,’ Chan cashes in ‘I could stay awake and stand guard for you.’

‘What? No, that’s fine, I’m totally…fine.’ The boy has dozed so far off from reality that Chan is afraid he might collapse at any motion to stand up, which is why he makes sure to stick close while he lolls up and down in his rocking chair. _This boy would be the death of him._

‘Lix,’ Said boy frowns at the use of the familiar nickname ‘you. Need. To. Sleep.’

With each stress of every word, Chan’s voice seems to lull Felix further and further down a sleep-inducing, quiet, solemn lane of travel that welcomes him oh, so readily that it feels wrong not to accept the invitation. He convinces himself that that’s the reason why he ends up in Chan’s arms, that’s the reason why he fits back into it so perfectly despite their missing, proper reconcilements, that’s why a certain warmth fits around his chest despite the nature of his cold-blooded friend.

To him, the Prince of Candy Kingdom would always be his Lix, and to the latter, the Vampire King would always be his Chan.

There isn’t any number of setbacks that could feasibly tear them apart.

⌛❅⌛

**TIMELINE 2 – a dingy comic book store, 1985**

_September 27 th, 1985_. A momentous day. A day that was so important to the star-speckled boy that he encircled it on his calendar numerous times in different colours to truly ground down its significance.

It was the very, extremely, supremely, superbly, possibly _most_ valuable event of the entire year. _The Twilight Zone_ was debuting its first episode on cable TV as the third revival of the beloved series. Most of Felix’s middle and high school years had been spent indulging in old VHS tapes of whatever his father had saved from ‘his days’, one of which were the 60s rendition of the highly acclaimed series.

It was timeless, it was a mix of the best genres TV had to offer; fantastical interpretations of existing fictional tropes, the building of worlds by means of science fiction in ideas that are not constrained by the limitations of reality, the horror and thrill of its darker themes and tonalities in an attempt to implement its ideas even in a real-world landscape.

Clearly, Felix had an affinity for the series. And, to hear of its revival, to know that he’ll be witnessing it live along with thousands, maybe millions of others around the globe, it was most thrilling. It was the simple knowledge of such that kept him on his toes for the entire day, constantly peering at the television from a distance, whether it was his little sister on her preferred children’s channel, or his father on some random old movie-showing, or his mother when she’d switched over to her drama.

Then, there was him. Constantly checking for the time, watching as the minutes, even the seconds, on his digital clock ticked by. He was an odd type of person in the sense that whenever he’d invested his time on remembering and tuning in on a very specific, imperative event – of which can seem insignificant to most –, the entire day is spent stagnant and unmoving save for the hours of waiting and pondering.

So, even when he’s encouraged to ‘listen to your music or something’, all he can do is lay in the comfort of his sheets and watch as the light peeking through his blinds shifts and changes with the progression of the day.

It doesn’t air until 10:00pm sharp. So, Felix is the most intent he’s ever been on wasting the day away until his clock fell at 9:45, to which he’d be ushering whoever is hogging the TV away, although he’s sure no one will be as he’s made his points clear. And then, he’d be settling down, watching pre-commercials roll, and indulge in a beautiful night of horror, fantasy, and mystery.

But then, the worst of his possible nightmares comes to fruition, a trepidation, a setback, a hinderance of the time remaining until the clock struck 9:45. His mother asks him to buy his sister a comic book she’s been pining after for weeks. And oh, how badly does he want to feel frustrated that he’s being forced to do this _now_ of all days, simply because ‘she’s nagging and surely, won’t be sleeping tonight without it’, although Felix is sure the comic itself will be what _keeps_ her awake.

Still, he pockets the exact amount offered by his mother, looks back at the time displayed on their grandfather clock – it’s 9:35pm – and ensures himself, as he’s hopping onto his trusty, worn bike – dubbed ‘Wheely’ by his little sister – and speeds over to their local comic book store with little attention to the trepidation and hesitancy that lingered within his veins, that he’ll make it back on time.

This day was too important. He’d never get to relive experiencing the big debut of what had already won thousands of hearts. So, with that idea relaying and reverberating through all of his thoughts, Felix allows the gusts of wind that trail past him, lace through his brown, overgrown hair, and ruffle his olive-green jacket, to draw past all of those worries.

It takes him around 10 minutes, according to his watch – although, he’s not sure whether it’s too reliable anymore –, to reach the dingy, little comic book store at the corner of the one street he’d only ever frequented thrice in the span of his 18 years of existence.

_The first time he’d ever visited_ , he was about 9, purchasing his first, ever comic book. The very one that he’d still cherished and readied a special spot for on his shelf today, the 100th edition of the critically-acclaimed ‘X-Men’ series; a ragtag team of Marvel Comics’ ‘strangest superheroes of all’.

Felix vividly remembers when his mother had been roaming through the shelves in search of birthday present for a cousin of his he’d barely spoken to, giving him the sacred golden ticket to look for one of his own. And as his sneaker-clad feet pad against the pristine floors of the small store, his eyes roam over the section dedicated to Marvel Comics. The ones that he’d hear about amongst classmates, the ones that he’d never gotten a hold of himself despite his varying attempts.

Their world-building colours, flashy titles and descriptive words strike Felix so poignantly that his mind spikes with an undecidedness that doesn’t fall out of the eyes of a, presumably 50-something worker (Felix had a knack for age-guessing) who watches amicably as Felix’s eyes switch from one edition to the next.

‘Need any help?’ He ends up questioning, having grown enough amusement from watching Felix’s eyes switch from one direction to the next like the workings of a coo-coo clock.

‘Huh?’ He finds himself looking from the man back to the piles of sacred superhero epics very casually. Sometimes, kids were a little too comfortable with the idea of speaking to and interacting with strangers. Then again, Felix was just the sociable type.

‘Not sure which one to get?’ The older man questions, his cap just barely concealing his kind eyes, scrunched at the sides in the wake of his wistful, deep-dimpled smile ‘No problem at all, I can understand how troubling it can be, when there’s just so many.’

Felix nods enthusiastically, bobbing his head up and down one too many times ‘Exactly! I just don’t know where to start. This’ll be my first one _ever_.’

The store owner plays along, feigning a convincingly hollow gasp ‘Oh! Well, you should’ve told me, that’s a very special occasion!’

Then, it’s his turn to meticulously scan over the contents of the shelves before them, humming when he finally thumbs through one dormant with shades of blue, red, and yellow – though, most of them seemed to be –, and the text ‘MARVEL COMICS GROUP: X-MEN’ is plastered in the front in its comically obnoxious manner. Just the way Felix liked it.

Upon being handed the comic book to flitter through himself, Felix instead pauses at the front cover, squinting to read the smaller text ‘But it says this is the 100th issue! It’ll take so long to read 99 whole issues!’

At that, the older man bends down just the slightest bit to reach his height, uttering his next words in mock whisper, as if sharing confidential information with the younger boy ‘I’ll let you in on a little secret. Most people don’t read them in order. You’ll do just fine. And anyways, doesn’t reading the most recent, special ‘100’ sound more fun?’

The memory has ingrained itself within his mind so well, he can’t help but recall it, even now, as he’s parking his bike, locking it, and feeling his light sneakers journey over the gravel just outside of its poster-clad exterior, a certain prep and eagerness in each step.

It wasn’t the only store like it in the area, but according to his mother, it was this specific one that would’ve housed that beloved comic book that his sister needed so badly: Archie Comics Group’s Betty and Veronica Comics Digest No. 16.

Felix would love to know what about this particular edition intrigued the interest of his 10-year-old sister so strongly that she had to send him out on the one day he did not want to be wavered by any external influences.

Intent on getting it over with, Felix wastes no time in (gently) pushing the door of the shop open, ringing the weakening bell overhead, and sending a gust of wind through. Thankfully, in spite of the fact that there’s only 4 other people inside, including two workers – one of which seems to be dozing off at the cashier –, Felix attracts no attention.

Shuffling inside so as to not appear as a startled maniac, he begins the thorough search for whichever section would’ve carried the Archie Comics. It’s amidst this persistent pursuit, that his eyes naturally (briefly) fall over the one worker that’s not dozing off and is actually staying fairly spirited despite the fact they’re likely working a late shift. He also doesn’t look that much older than Felix, which imprints that sort of ‘don’t know how to act around someone close to my age in this unfamiliar public space’ pressure.

Felix attributes most of the feeling and the fact that he happens to be eavesdropping on the conversation the boy is engaged in with a fellow customer, to the fact that he just seems to exude a friendly aura. And, they just happened to be within ear shot, so…

So, Felix peeks from his peripheral vision, he looks over the boy, who’s adorned in casual clothing, the only thing alluding to the fact that he’s a worker being a name tag sitting over a patch on his black sweater, tilted to one side, ever so slightly. ‘Chris’, it reads out. His brown hair looks strikingly soft to the touch, through the ways in which it winds into unkempt curls, some more defined than others.

His eyes are attentive, bright, kind, and perfectly emulative of the customer-friendly, dimpled smile he offers the lady, even as she directs yet another question to him, for what seemed like the millionth time since he’s stepped into the shop.

He just seemed so _familiar_.

‘I’m just not sure if all of this is quite worth it for my little Johnny, I wouldn’t want him to grow violent from all of the action present in these comics, you know?’ She quips, deeming most of her interaction with ‘Chris’ pretty useless.

‘Ah, I understand,’ He nods, keeping face despite the fact that this woman seems to have worn him out ‘I can assure you, as someone who’s grown up with these, the adventures it builds and the themes it holds trespass that of just simple action and violence. It doesn’t take itself too seriously like that, it’s just fun and exciting. I think he’ll love it,’

And as if to finalize his statement with further solidity (before she can ask more questions) he points over at the familiar hero on the cover of the comic book he’s holding ‘Plus! Captain America is patriotic, but not overbearingly, if that wins you over.’

Having sensed what type of words would win such a customer over as well, Felix isn’t surprised when she agrees with him and finally sends him one final, pink-lipped smile as she treks over to the cashier, where Chris looks over and sounds out a short ‘Peter!’, to which said boy stirs awake just as the lady’s at the counter.

That poor kid.

Within his state of entrancement, Felix only registers himself back into existence when he quickly turns away before the kind worker can look back at him – because the only thing Felix hated more than missing the viewings of his favourite shows was making eye contact with a stranger.

Alas, only so much can be done, when Felix looks like a completely lost customer and it is quite literally Chris’s job to help him. Still, he feels his heart rate accelerating as he hears the boy’s red converse shuffle closer to where he’s busy pretending to look and gnawing at his lip nervously.

Red converse. Why did that illicit some kind of tethered memory Felix can’t even recall having? Perhaps the complications of déjà vu. He doesn’t pay much attention to it.

Eventually, he has to swallow his pride and face the boy when he asks, ‘Need any help?’ The phrasing of which takes him back to his very first visit. Chris seemed to remind him of that store owner quite a lot.

‘Ah,’ Felix pretends to be surprised, internally sending himself congratulations at the splendid acting ‘yes, please. Do you happen to know where the Betty and Veronica Digests are?’

‘Oh, yes! We just stocked up on the newest one, right this way,’ His trained eyes take him (and Felix) to the left, where Felix can clearly see a stack of the Archie comics, overwhelmed by much more colour than the Marvel comics, in both the literal and figurative sense.

Chris hums shortly before sounding out an ‘Aha!’ and thumbing out the newest edition ‘Just the one?’

Felix’s patience seems to be wearing thin, when his eyes had glanced back down at his watch, where it reads 21:40. How did Felix manage to waste 5 minutes when it would’ve taken a minute of looking to find the stupid comic.

‘Yep, I’m sure.’ Felix’s habits get the better of him, and both the tone of his voice, the tapping of one foot repeatedly, and the other nervous ticks he seemed to always exhibit out of his own realization, all seem to allude that he’s in a rush. It doesn’t get lost to Chris, though.

‘In a hurry, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll get this bagged quickly.’ At that, the boy seems to realise that ‘Peter’ would take too long, so he just mumbles to the boy that he can go to the back, and quickly gets to ringing Felix up.

As much as Felix wants to hurry out of the store as quickly as is reasonably possible, the thought lingers within his head of how familiar everything regarding this _Chris_ had been. From his black monochromic clothing – which, he thinks, is comparable to that of Allison from The Breakfast Club _before_ the transformation –, to the one splash of red in the form of his sneakers, to the thick hair he has to ensure is pushed back every so often whenever it falls off to one side and blocks his vision, to the pink of his ears, to the dimples on his cheeks that peek out every so often, even as he purses his lips in acute concentration– _oh._

Felix is staring. Which he only realises when the boy he’d been gawking at clears his throat and motions to the bag in front of him. _Right._

In a fit of embarrassment, Felix quickly collects the bag from off of the counter, rushing a quick ‘Bye’ and shuffling back to the door. Just as his hand reaches to grip onto the cold knob of the store’s creaky door, he feels himself freeze upon hearing the so-called Peter call out: ‘The Twilight Zone is almost on, I think we better close up from now.’

_The Twilight Zone._

If he bikes home quick enough, he could make it just as the show would start. He could still make it.

But…

He isn’t sure why, but this incessant motivation to know more about the intriguing boy only seems to gnaw at him with more force, now that he’s obtained the newly essential information that _they were going to watch the show_.

But, what did that matter? Why couldn’t he move?

‘Sure thing,’ Chris calls back, only having just come to the realisation that Felix hadn’t left yet ‘hey, are you alright?’

‘Huh? Wh–,’ He blinks a few times, wide eyes roaming everywhere but back at the boy’s eyes through a loss for words ‘y-you’re watching The Twilight Zone?’

At that, Chris perks up, puzzlement replaced by excitement ‘Yes! It’s debuting today at–,’

And there it is. They both sound out, at the same time, ’10pm.’

‘Yeah,’ Chris nods, chuckling at the boy’s dazed stare. It would positively look creepy on anyone else, but the mousy boy before him somehow only looks more adorable ‘are you watching?’

‘I’m supposed to,’ Felix nods, mentally cursing at himself for his idiocy ‘it’s just, I don’t think I’ll make it in time, my house isn’t close enough–,’

‘You can watch it here!’ Chris enthusiastically considers, only recognising shortly after that he likely sounded a little too thrilled ‘I mean, if you’d like to. We have TV and snacks in the back.’

Felix mulls it over, although he’s not sure why he even has to, seeing as he’d already made his decision when he decided to continue pursuing a conversation with the affable boy. He spares him one final once-over and concludes that maybe a small scolding from his mom would be worth a night spent with a convivial boy – and his friend.

‘I would love to.’

⌛❅⌛

**TIMELINE 3 – chess club, sometime in 2005**

Lee Felix aspires to be known. He aspires to do more than just ‘survive’; to tackle the upper echelon-standard any high school ran by, and somehow prosper as a well-fitted, well-just individual.

He likes to think that he dedicated a lengthy amount of time and care into stipulating these attempts (for, after all, they were not baseless), of which included: Spending a few weeks shining shoes at City Hall, just to earn enough to buy himself shoes that weren’t tattered and made popular kids sneer at him while they passed by him in the halls, carrying some rich kid’s books around for a solid 2 weeks while he followed them around like a lost puppy with big aspirations.

That was only really two things, but they’d taken so much out of him that he’d like to just offer himself a pat on his back since no one else was there to do so.

But, how, exactly, was he to achieve such a feat, whilst joining a chess club, of all things.

The school offered a lovely range of different clubs, through which students could find a modicum of delight in their, otherwise, dreary lives. Felix evaluated his options thoroughly, but every single motion he made to draw his attention away from the unfamed Chess Club, the more his eyes still seemed to draw back in.

All because of one. One Person.

The flier that had been handed out during his homeroom class, the flier that had housed the names for all current members of each existing club, as well as ones that were trying to get started up (including a ‘Poetry Club’ with four members, but Felix didn’t hold a flake of interest for it), happened to list a particular name that immediately caught Felix’s eye, glimmering and standing above the others:

Bang Chaeyeon.

The Bang Chaeyeon that offered Felix kind smiles, small waves, whose hair swished over her shoulders so seamlessly as she walked down halls and graced its residents with her elegance and refinedness. But it wasn’t exactly _her_ that caught Felix’s eye.

It was her brother.

Not that you’d ever find Felix admitting that, ever, because where Chaeyeon and him barely interacted, Chan and he had never even breathed within one another’s space – except for the one time, when he’d walked up to their table and asked for his pencil back from her, to which Chan made split-second eye contact with him that sent his heart practically plummeting out of his chest and into the horrid plate of supposed food in front of them.

Felix doesn’t exactly know what his ulterior motive is, for there were many inconsistencies in his so-called ‘plan’: for one, he couldn’t be sure that Chaeyeon would even be willing to befriend him, for his plans kind of required such a thing to be established for Felix to somehow edge his way into Chan’s life, as well. And even then, the prospect seemed unfair to Chaeyeon, as she was genuinely great, but Felix was very closeted and very dry of luck.

So, Chess Club. Sure, his vision is definitely flawed and extremely skewed, and sure, Chan could end up being extremely repulsed by the idea of a boy crushing on him, and sure, he knew nothing about chess, and sure…anything and everything could go wrong, but at least Felix had an excuse to spend more time away from the barren wasteland of a home he seemingly resided in.

He signs up. It could be the best or worst decision he’s ever managed to make between the weak walls of this school, depending on how well he approached it. Based on his reputation and pure probability, the answer would likely reside on the lower end of things.

That’s how we find the very same boy, gripping onto a flimsy, slightly torn, paper, carrying the required amount of cash (his very own), feeling the uncomfortable stick of beady sweat behind his neck as he looks on ahead, awaiting his turn in the short line that had been formed upon entering the classroom the club would be utilizing for meetings.

‘Uh, hello?’

There it is. The entire reason he’d begun panicking. The entire reason he’d felt stuffy despite the surprising adequacy of the air conditioning surrounding them. The entire reason he’d even considered this stupid club in the first place.

Bang Chan. In front of him. Awaiting a form and cash to be handed in by the next member in line, who happens to be Felix.

Felix’s brain short-circuits, and he swears he hears it spark and fizzle. Somehow, amidst the polluted chaos, he manages to wrench his eyes up from where it had been staring into the floor – he hadn’t quite registered that he was next in line – and hand over the form and the cash, probably too frantically to seem normal.

Still, and thankfully so, Chan just offers him a kind smile and gratefully accepts them, switching between looking down at the sheet in front of him and back up at the form Felix had given over, humming before sounding out an ‘Aha!’ upon finally spotting the right name, scribbling down a small tick.

‘Alright,’ Chan then diligently places the cash into a tin box, sending over another smile before handing Felix a nametag ‘do you have a rating?’

‘Sorry?’

‘A rating,’ Chan repeats, chuckling softly when he’s only met with further confusion ‘um, I’m guessing you’ve never played…at tournaments, or inter-club matches?’

‘No,’ Felix feels his breath hitch before he finally admits ‘I’ve actually never played chess, ever, in any setting.’

‘Oh,’ Chan sounds astonished, trying to find the words but seeming to fall short. Thankfully, Felix swoops in to confirm:

‘I mean, I _have_ played before,’

‘Oh?’

‘On-online, you know? Never in real life. I’m just…starting to get into it.’

Felix lied. He’d never touched a chess board, digital or material, he had only briefly gone over the rules a few times, and even then, barely understood the premise. Why was he doing this again?

Chan seems to find amusement in his words, as he giggles lightly, nodding before scribbling something else down ‘Alright, so for now, you’ll remain unrated, but once we start going around and organising matches, you can pick your ranking up!’

Felix gulps, he’s currently been placed last, as he sees Chan has written him in the lowest rank. He’s the only member on the list with a rating of ‘zero’.

‘Welcome to the chess club, Lee Felix!’

⌛…

Felix looks back at his watch. It’s been a solid 15 minutes since his triumphantly embarrassing encounter with Chan himself, that had somehow landed his already spiralling mind into an increasingly worrisome state. The kind that could only be instigated by the soft gaze of a pretty boy and the self-recognition over the fact that he’d consciously joined a club he had no right being in.

They’d endured a very quick orientation, went over the logistics of the day’s meeting, went over further plans, and somehow, through it all, Felix had been able to make a further mockery of himself than he thought was possible.

Kim Seungmin, a long-term, second-highest ranking member, thought he had been joking when he asked why there was a timer by their boards. Then, he laughed again when Felix asks what a rating was, exactly. And then, what a file was, upon overhearing it in a chess-themed pun.

Seungmin had stopped laughing at that point.

Even after all of that, one question remained that had yet to be answered. One that he can barely give himself the time to contemplate over, since his brain is in such fast-paced overdrive that time feels as if it’s moving much slower and his surroundings melding into an incorporeal ambit of existence.

Why was Chan here, instead of Chaeyeon, the person that had been advertised as the club’s president that year?

He thinks, if he pretends to not exist anymore, he might just feel his soul lift out of his body like that weird ad from the other day seemed to suggest could be possible with a single sip of the drink it was promoting.

_Felix is getting distracted._

And when he zones back into a state of being, he can’t seem to rope himself back into that fantasy-like condition he’d plunged under. His eyes re-record the view of the chess-related posters plastered over the corkboard in the centre of the wall at the front of the room, along with various announcements, dates for upcoming chess tournaments, and finally, the infamous rank scoreboard. Felix’s name tag, for the time being, although he doubted it would shift from its current position, sits at the very bottom. Chan’s sits at the very top, with a rating of 1950, which based on the convenient chart next to it, made him a Class A level chess player, only 50 points away from that of an Expert level chess player.

Sure, Felix didn’t know much about chess, but he knew that this couldn’t have been any ordinary rating, especially considering the fact that the member at second place had a rating of 1750.

His ears tune back into its enveloping reverberation as well, and his nerves spike up upon hearing the light chatter exchanged around him, the jovial atmosphere he seemed to be holding back. His sneakers tap at the ground impatiently while he remains still and unmoving, looking back at the empty chair in front of him, awaiting the dread that would inevitably overtake him whenever he was joined by a partner that would probably win the fastest game of their lives – he’d taken a peek at the name just above him on the scoreboard, 1200 points, which put them in Class C, which was still remarkable in comparison to his talents.

The last thing he hears before feeling his heart skip an entire, rapidly-pummelling beat, is laughter. The familiar laughter of…

‘Hi, Felix, my name’s Bang Chan, and I’ll be your first player for the day,’

_What?_

‘We’ll be starting our clocks with everyone else, alright?’ Chan motions over to the clock between them, watching as Felix’s eyes widen and his missed beat is replaced by incessant, fast-paced thumping.

‘Uhm, shouldn’t I be playing with the person above me?’

Chan nods, a grin with tricky-to-read intentions daubed over his captivating features, before he continues ‘That’s the way it’s supposed to be. I personally requested to play you, instead.’

Felix feels his insides lobbing about unnervingly ‘Why?’

‘Well,’ Chan looks up, crossing his arms over his chest, where Felix takes quick notice of the ‘Weezer’ shirt he’s adorned in – it’s black and red, for some reason, his mind glues onto that.

‘I seem to have culminated a theory,’ Chan continues ‘you’ve never played chess, hm?’

‘Well, yeah, I told you, just servers–,’

‘Ever.’ Chan emphasises ‘I don’t think someone who has laid their eyes on a chess board before would have to ask what a ‘file’ or a ‘rook’ was.’

Felix thinks his spirits might as well have been impaled and stepped on, for there truly didn’t seem to be an end in sight, to his current predicament ‘Well, you see, I just didn’t really know what the technical terms were,’

Felix pauses. He sounds so stupid right now.

‘Well, I think you’re lying,’ Chan raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching slightly in amusement before they reach out into another gratifying grin ‘call it an inkling. Somehow, I feel like I could see through you from the second you stepped in.’

And it’s true. Chan didn’t know whether it was the fact that Felix, from his general knowledge of the boy, didn’t seem like someone that would have ever willingly taken up chess as a hobby, or just that he seemed much too tense for a simple, first day, run-through. But, he could so clearly see through everything he uttered, see past his wide eyes, and peer into his dispirited form in a way he couldn’t comprehend too well but knew of, deep down.

‘I’m sorry.’ Felix seems to give up then, but Chan’s next words don’t hold the kind of bitter malice he expected to feel the doom of, or anything remotely close to it. In fact, it inspires a distinctive conviviality, like he’s heard it before.

‘No worries, Prince, I’ll be taking you along for a fun walkthrough while everyone else plays.’

Prince. Prince.

_Prince._

Before Felix’s ample gaze and parted lips can utter a breath, Chan immediately cuts in again ‘Sorry…I don’t even know, where that came from,’

But Felix doesn’t want to move on. Because, there was something askew, something off.

‘I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,’ Felix mutters absent-mindedly.

Chan looks to be confused, but a sliver of understanding does cross over his eyes. Felix can tell. He doesn’t know why, but he can tell.

‘What?’ Where Chan would usually equip a knowing smile or light laughter, his face remains still, and his features melded to aid the perplexity of his emotions.

‘Haven’t we…?’ Felix feels an ache settle somewhere at the centre of his skill, he’s never felt too sure yet so puzzled, like he’d somehow been speaking out of turn.

‘Prince,’ Chan starts, an unsteadiness in his voice ‘why do I have such a strong tendency to call you that?’

The pair seem so entranced within their own circle of uncertainty, that they don’t register, at all, how everything arounds them begins to blur into a murky black. Nothing surrounds them but an empty vacuum, and withheld memories they can’t even remember upholding seem to resurface, fronting themselves over every other thought roaming the expanse of universes they inhabit.

It’s only a matter of time until, they, too, meld and blur into the void.

⌛❅⌛

**TIMELINE 4?5?6? – somewhere within the expanse of the universe, ????**

Who had come up with that abiding phrase: ‘I will look at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.’?

Felix found the saying more than a little odd, whenever he’d hear of its utterance, in timeless tales of love and loss; it seemed to be a common trope to associate the good with twinges of tragedy, for some reason, perhaps to revitalize seemingly unreachable standards into a more reachable narrative.

Was such a phrase only made to ever be used in exaggerative contexts, in expressing a form of love so abiding, so tender, that you could propose the viability that they’ve hung massive, fiery celestial bodies and littered them across the galaxy.

When Felix thinks it over, the grandiosity of the universe they seem to inhabit, from its most minute to most confounding components, alludes him to believe that such a stare could only be filled with a brilliant wonder. It’s the simplest of phrases, the ones in common tales of love and loss, that only seem to hold such a weight and impede his thoughts so staggeringly when he appreciates its magnitude.

Nothing else could describe such a specific gaze. Nothing else grounded it just as precisely, for Felix’s eyes never trail away from that of Chan’s. Only a gape of wonderment and lingering admiration could be preserved for a wonder like Chan. Only the brightest of eyes and the strongest of focuses could be given to those we yearn to learn more about, that we yearn to read like an open storybook.

Felix hasn’t quite attached himself to an individual as closely as he has to Chan, he’s never felt this confounding wonderment consume him so wholly, that it hinders his ability to express himself completely and irrevocably.

It’s the smallest of his gestures, through which he is able to convey the thousands of essays he writes for the boy in the fortress of a mind he possesses. It’s the simplest of phrases.

‘Do you believe in soulmates?’ He’d asked him once when they were merely children, stuck in their youth, stuck in the bliss of past recollections.

Chan replied simply ‘Maybe, maybe not. I hope they exist; it just seems too…too unrealistic.’

He asks him the same question, a few years later, when Felix’s head lays on the boy’s chest from when he’d complained that the scratchy grass felt irritative against his hair.

‘I think I just might.’ Chan begins, his heartbeat thudding against Felix’s head, reverberating through his chest in a tightly constructed pattern ‘I think I’ve bound my soul to someone’s, and I have no choice but to stick by them for as long as eternity may last.

They’re staring up into a starless sky. To many, it seems disorienting, the sight of a blank slate dull and uninviting. The dexterity in Chan’s sights, from whence he’d first driven them over to that solemn hill, facing a clear night sky, it was completely lost to Felix’s own limited point of view.

Within a blank slate, anything is possible. Even, say, watching as someone hung the stars themselves, watching as they provided light where fear and darkness lingered over shoulders and shadows engulf it all rather than tag along as they would in instances of complete daylight.

When Felix stopped going with Chan, to sit atop that hill, to gaze up at the sky, stars started appearing. Sometimes it seemed like a trick of the eye, seamless flashes of light that would fade out of view in seconds. But slowly, with the progression of time – the concept of which felt more finite the more it ran out –, they fixed themselves onto a previously blank slate.

Chan may have left, but in doing so, he lived up to his greatest expectations. He hung up all of the stars in the sky, just for Felix.

⌛❅⌛

Dear Chan,

Hi. I really don’t know how I’m supposed to write this, or how I’m supposed to approach this, but my therapist said it should be pretty healing to narrate my thoughts and seemingly send a letter/s out to you, even though I’m more than slightly aware of your disappearance from existence.

So, where should we start? First of all, and I’ll try to remain as put together as I possibly can, do you remember when, on one of our nights together, you told me how lovely it was that we direct so much value to the galaxy? How, we often deduce our own planet as minute and of general normalcy, when in comparison to any other planet?

It’s not farfetched at all, seeing as certain planets have only ever really been seen from great distances, but hold more beauty than our earth can obtain even a grain of. Your fascination, it astounded me, and I couldn’t help but to yearn to learn more about this boy with soft hair, the prettiest smile, and the most beautiful fascination for a world we have yet to exceed the bounds of. Your knowledge, your thoughts, your ideas, they transcended that of the basic modules of existence as we know it, and you walked me through it all and taught me how to fall for concepts that could never be truly understood by those that have never tasted a scrap of it.

You taught me how to love, how to feel, how to understand, how to expand on mundane outlooks, how to live, all within the horridly finite amount of time we spent together. You gave me a lifetime of happiness within the limited line, and for that, I owe you lifetimes of gratitude

I spent a lengthy amount of time stuck in my daydreams. Stuck in fictional universes, in stories built solely through the mind, but I wouldn’t take them back for any mundane imaginings.

Do you remember when we’d accidentally gotten assigned to a chess tournament, when you’d made a terrible chess joke that got us kicked out almost immediately? When, instantly afterwards, we’d begun an overdue ‘Adventure Time marathon’, where we made it a habit to huddle up in our makeshift fort, the one that you constantly praised me for upholding despite its simplicity.

Do you remember when you declared that you’d be the Marshall Lee to my Prince Gumball? It became a sort of habit of yours, thereafter, to call me your prince. It also didn’t fall out of my attention that you’d often incorporate red into your usually monochromatic outfit choices, and I wanted you to know that it didn’t fall out of my attention. I wanted you to know that I knew, that I felt your intentions in every single thing you did and said.

I felt everything when I was with you, and when you left, I felt nothing.

Nothing and nothing and nothing over nothing.

Not grief, not sadness, not anguish, not heartache, not sorrow.

A mind numbing nothing. An endless, infinite, nothing, that grew and grew and grew so wide and consumed me so wholly that I was afraid I would have lost every part of myself I openly gave to you. That when you’d died, I’d died with you, and that there was nothing left of me on this floating rock anymore.

I remember wondering if this would be my eternity. If I truly was set out to suffer without the presence of my only soulmate in this world, my only match.

It struck me, the night after your funeral, the night I saw the first star.

Everyone had been at my heel, hoping that their presence held up just enough to ensure that I didn’t do anything stupid, to ensure that I was fine even if everything wasn’t fine.

But I was alone. Alone under a starless sky, until the first one popped out. Until the first of many.

You hung up the stars, you had provided me with a light and a fire that formerly left me to rot on my own for weeks on end.

Even in the afterlife, you help me feel everything. You lift me up from nothing.

And for that, I am eternally indebted to you.

With love, your soulmate, Lee Felix.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed the rollercoaster of a ride this story was hehe  
> it's taken so many twists and turns during my planning process and i'm not tooo satisfied with how it came out, mainly bc i had certain expectations in my head, and i don't think i completely lived up to them.  
> originally, i wasn't going to be as kind as to give felix his much-needed closure hehe i was actually planning on utilizing the diverging timelines to show him at his worst state of rejection and inability to completely grieve for the death of his best friend and lover,, but then i thought that would be too harsh so i implimented some calm within the storm :,)  
> kudos and comments are appreciated !!


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